Page 48 of The Gambler's Prize
Chapter 21
Grimes
Ijolt awake. My heart jumps as I remember where I am: halfway down a mineshaft. Waking up in Florian’s trap is even more uncomfortable than waking up on my prison mattress. The hard wooden platform digs into my shoulder blades. I squint at the sky, trying to stay calm. Hoping not to see any vultures. It’s not as bright as before, but still well off nightfall. I haven’t been here for very long.
What woke me? A noise? Is Florian back?
“Grimes? Is that you down there? Are you all right?”
It’s not Florian's voice. It’s a no-nonsense female voice, speaking Rhennian but with a completely different accent: Breta. After a moment of disappointment that I try not to acknowledge, relief hits me with humbling strength. I’m as grateful to be rescued as a damsel in distress.
“It’s me,” I yell. “I’m okay, just trapped. What are you doing here anyway?”
She peers down at me, concern on her kind face. “I needed some shade. Luckily for you. Just hold on. I’ll go and get a rope from your place.”
“I’ll be here.” I salute up at her.
My sarcastic sense of humor is returning now I know I’m safe. It only takes a few minutes for her to return and throw a rope down the mineshaft to me. I grab the rope quickly in case it dissolves like a mirage, and pull myself up with difficulty. My body feels awkward and stiff. Breta holds out a hand and heaves me over the edge of the chasm. I find I can’t stand, my legs too shaky, so I sit on the ground while she looms over me, hands on her hips.
“What were you doing down there?” she demands.
I roll my eyes. “I fell in. Obviously.”
“Well, obviously. But how were you foolish enough to fall in?”
I don’t answer. Usually her plain talking suits me fine, especially because she can handle plain talking right back, unlike most people. But it grates on me at this moment. I don’t usually need to have my feelings coddled, but I’m feeling a little fragile, not to mention humiliated.
“Where’s Florian?” she says.
“I have no idea.” Which is the truth. He could be halfway to Rhennes by now.
She grins. “Well, I’ll walk you home and he can look after you, maybe even give you a back rub if you’re lucky.”
I stare at her. Why the coy tone?
“Have you had too much sun?” I ask. “What on earth are you talking about?”
She scoffs. “Don’t try to fool me, Grimes. I see how you look at him.”
“What? When?”
“When I pass your place, the two of you are always talking away while you work, lost to the rest of the world. I’ve never seen you look so happy.”
I wait for the punchline. But she seems serious. What is the woman smoking? Never seen me look so happy? Impossible. She must’ve seen Florian prattling on and on as usual, with me his captive audience. It seems cruel to shush himallthe time.
“With all due respect, Breta,” I say, “you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Her eyes glint with wrathful fire. “I know one thing. I know why you went after him in the first place. And it wasn’t about needing a laborer.”
My heart beats faster, a warning in my chest. Has she somehow figured it out? Stars, I hope not. It might not sound so reasonable and fair to an outsider. More like slightly unhinged.
“You wanted company, and that’s why you hired him,” she accuses. “You’re lonely, Grimes.”
My heartbeat slows down. She’s way off. At least she hasn’t fathomed the depths of revenge in my mind. I’m annoyed at her pity, nonetheless.
“I am not lonely,” I say.
After two years in an overcrowded prison, with privacy a lost cause, other men constantlythere—there when I ate, there when I slept, there when I pissed—I’m not going to wither away over a little solitude. In fact, it’s welcome.
